


The Letter

by Cazio



Series: Concatenation [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 23:37:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19859902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cazio/pseuds/Cazio
Summary: ((epilogue, read notes))Tony Stark died on November 4th, 2056.The day was bitterly cold and the sky untouched by clouds. Quiet.At least, that was how Steve remembered it, but he hadn’t really been paying attention on that Saturday.  He had been in too many countries too many times during that week.But when a letter arrived to his room sent in a thick, tied-shut envelope from New York, he knew Tony was gone.





	The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> this epilogue is brought to you by the band of Concatenation fans who participated in Marvel Trumps Hate and their winning bid. personally, I prefer the story without the letter's contents known, but I suppose it's been five years since this was published, and I did already have the letter mostly written, so why not have a little treat. :) 
> 
> this letter doesn't have anything in it that affects the story, so you won't be missing out on anything by not reading it. but if you like to suffer, i am always happy to oblige.
> 
> thank you all for supporting this fic even five years later.  
> 

_in case you haven't read concatenation (i suggest you do before reading this) or need a memory jog, this is the letter sent to steve after tony's death. steve never read this letter, it was read by emory, steve's war partner, who then burned it so that steve would never have the chance to read the words._

* * *

Steve, 

I’m writing this now because by the time I’m actually going, I don’t think I’ll have use of my hands anymore, and because I know none of this will change by the time you read it.

I used to be afraid of the day I could no longer do work. Work defined such a large part of my life, but I’m ready to rest now. My brain is tired. My body is tired too, but I know I have more left in here. My hands though…I guess since I’ll be dead when you read this I can tell you that they hurt like hell. Holding this stupid pen is like holding a molten piece of metal between my fingers. And my wrists? I’ve had three surgeries. 

You should know that these are my last written words. I’m not even signing my signature on anything anymore. My last are for you, Steve.

Seeing you last year is something I still think about. It’s stupid how often I think about it, actually. It’s something closer to obsession. I still think about you every day. I say your name a lot, in my head. Steve, Steve, Steve. It’s like a fucking mantra. Whenever it’s quiet, I hear myself saying your name. I feel my tongue move in my mouth just the slightest bit, feeling out the word like I might speak it aloud someday and have it mean something to you.

I love you, Steve. And when I’m lying here in my penthouse sucking in my last couple breaths with Jackson here next to me, I’m going to wish it was you. When I told you I wouldn’t leave him for you even if you asked, I was lying. I hope I was, anyway. When you still didn’t want me, I thought that at least I’d never feel empty again. Yet here I am knowing I’m going to die, that emptiness still lingering. 

I do love Jackson, but once you’ve tasted love the way we did, normal love doesn’t feel like enough. I’m glad you never found anyone else. I don’t regret that I did, but Jackson makes things a lot harder in a lot of ways.

Anyway, I’ve arranged for you to have $44.75 million put into your account, just like I promised I would. Please use it or donate it, or something. Don’t let it sit there to collect dust like you left me. 

I wish we could have fixed us. God, every day I wish that. I wish I could have been better for you.

I’ve relived every moment I can remember of our marriage with the memory tech I created. Jackson and Peter took it away from me and I hate them for it sometimes. I get it back one more time, when it’s really the end. I hope I die in your arms there. 

I also hope missing out on this is your greatest regret. I hope my name brings a bitterness into your mouth you can’t get rid of for days. I hope every object you see, every word you hear makes you think of me and hurt. I hope you have to go to medical sometimes just to make sure you’re not having a heart attack, and I hope you feel guilty that it’s my money paying for that EKG. 

I know that’s selfish, and these are words I won’t be able to take back, but they’re true.

I hope my name scorches your lips forever the way it does mine. I hope that peeling, acidic burn travels down your throat and scours your insides until you can’t think or breathe because it hurts too much, and maybe then you’ll have a taste of what the last few decades have been for me.

You missed our kid growing up. You were supposed to be there for that. You were supposed to be with me.

It isn’t right that Peter feels the way he does about you. I’ve tried to explain it to him so many times, but he won’t listen. I never had any idea. I guess I wasn’t around enough—I still always thought he loved you like he did when his favorite part of the week was making pancakes at your apartment.

I lost sight of a lot of things when I realized you weren’t coming back to me. I continued to believe that one day you would show up and all of it would be over. I would have forgiven you, Steve. I wish I could say I forgive you now, but I don’t. I can’t. I can’t forgive you for loving me so much and then taking it all away.

No--what I can’t forgive is you loving me the same way I love you, but doing nothing about it because you’re afraid of what it would do to your image. All of the people who would have cared don’t actually care about you. I do. More than you’ll ever be able to comprehend while you live on this earth, trapped in your youth.

When your time here does end--like mine will soon--I do hope it’s peaceful. For as much as you’ve hurt me, you still deserve to go quietly. I hope you die surrounded by people who love you, like I will. I’ll even have a false version of you. It won’t be enough, but it’ll be more than what I’ve had.

I love you, Steve. I wish I could tell you in person, but your phone doesn’t even ring anymore. I’ve always loved you. My biggest regret will always be letting us end.

I’m not going to sign my name last, because I want my last written words to be the ones I wish I could say to your perfect face.

I’ve been many things over my lifetime. I’ve been an asshole, I’ve been a father, I’ve been a husband, maybe even a hero, but I’ve only had only one constant, one unchanging thing throughout it all:

Steve Rogers, I love you.


End file.
